Geoffrey Chaucer

 

                 Troilus and Cressida

                                       

 

      Book I

 

                                                 

           1.

 

Troilus’s double sorrow for to tell,

he that was son of Priam King of Troy,

and how, in loving, his adventures fell

from grief to good, and after out of joy,

my purpose is, before I make envoy.

Tisiphone, do you help me, so I might

pen these sad lines, that weep now as I write.

 

                     2.

 

I call on you, goddess who does torment,

you cruel Fury, sorrowing ever in pain:

help me, who am the sorrowful instrument

who (as I can) help lovers to complain.

Since it is fitting, and truth I maintain,

for a dreary mate a woeful soul to grace,

and for a sorrowful tale a sorry face.

 

3.

 

For I, who the God of Love’s servants serve,

not daring to Love, in my inadequateness,

pray for success, though death I might deserve,

so far am I from his help in darkness.

But nevertheless, if this should bring gladness

to any lover, and his cause avail,

Love take my thanks, and mine be the travail.

 

4.

 

But you, lovers that bathe in gladness,

if any drop of pity is in you,

remember all your past heaviness

that you have felt, and how others knew

the same adversity: and think how, too,

you have felt Love dare to displease

if you have won him with too great an ease.

 

5.

 

And pray for those that may have been

in Troilus’s trouble, as you’ll later hear,

that love bring them solace in heaven:

and also, for me, pray to God so dear

that I might have the power to make clear

such pain and woe as Love’s folk endure

in Troilus’s unhappiest adventure.

 

6.

 

And also pray for those that have despaired

of love, and never can recover:

and also those by falsity impaired,

by wicked tongues, beloved one, or lover,

And so ask of God the benign mover,

to grant them soon to pass from this place,

that have despaired of Love’s grace.

 

7.

 

And also pray for those that are at ease,

that God might grant them to persevere,

and send them power their lovers to please,

that it might, for Love, be worship and a pleasure.

For that I hope will be my soul’s best measure:

to pray for those who Love’s servants be,

and write their woes, and live in charity.

 

8.

 

And so as to have, for them, compassion

as though I were their own brother dear,

now listen to me, with all good intention:

for now I’ll go straight to my matter, here,

in which you may the double-sorrows hear

of Troilus’s love of Cressid, she, by his side,

and how she forsook him before she died.

 

9.

 

It is well known how the Greeks, strong

in arms, with a thousand ships, went

there to Troy, and the city long

besieged, near ten years without stint,

and in diverse ways, and with sole intent,

to take revenge for the rape of Helen, done

by Paris, they strove there as one.

 

10.

 

Now it fell out that in the town there was

living a lord, of great authority,

a powerful priest who was named Calchas,

in science a man so expert that he

knew well that Troy would fall utterly,

by the answer of his god that was called thus:

Dan Phoebus or Apollo Delphicus.

 

11.

 

So when this Calchas knew by his divining,

and also by answer from this Apollo,

that the Greeks would such a host bring

that, through it, Troy must be brought low,

he planned out of the town to go.

For he well knew by prophecy Troy would

be destroyed, whether or not it should.

 

12.

 

For which purpose to depart quietly

was the clear intent of this far-seeing man,

and to the Greek host, most carefully

he stole away: and they with courteous hand

gave him both worship and service, and

trusted that he had cunning in his head

for every peril they might have to dread.  

 

13.

 

A noise rose up when this was first spied,

through all the town, and generally was spoken,

that Calchas was fled as a traitor and allied

with them of Greece: and vengeful thoughts were woken

against him who had so falsely his faith broken:

and it was said: ‘He and all his kin, as one,

are worthy to be burnt, skin and bone.

 

14.

 

Now Calchas had left behind, in this mischance,

all ignorant of this false and wicked deed,

his daughter, who was doing great penance:

for she was truly in fear of her life, indeed,

like one that does not know what advice to heed,

for she was both a widow and alone,

without a friend to whom she dared to moan.

 

15.

 

Cressida was the name this lady owned:

and to my mind, in all of Troy’s city

none was as fair, surpassing everyone.

So angelic was her native beauty,

that like a thing immortal seemed she,

as does a heavenly and perfect creature

sent down here to put to shame our nature.

 

16.

 

This lady that all day heard in her ears

her father’s shame, his falsity and treason,

nearly out of her wits with sorrows and fears,

in her full widow’s habit of silken brown,

before Hector on her knees she fell down,

and with a piteous voice, tenderly weeping,

asked mercy of him, her own pardon seeking.

 

17.

 

Now this Hector was full of pity by nature,

and saw that she was distressed by sorrow,

and that she was so fair a creature.

Out of his goodness he cheered her now

and said: ‘Let your father’s treason go

with all mischance: and you yourself in joy

live, while you wish, here with us in Troy.

 

18.

 

And all the honour that men have as yet

done you, as fully as when your father was here,

you shall have, and your body shall men protect,

in so far as I can enquire or hear.’

And she thanked him humbly, full of cheer,

and would have all the more, if it had been his will,

and took her leave, and home, and held her still.

 

19.

 

And in her house she lived with such company

as her honour obliged her to uphold:

and while she was dwelling in that city

kept her estate, and both of young and old

was well beloved, and well, of her, men told,

but whether she had children then or no,

I have not read, therefore I let it go.

 

20.

 

Things fell out as they do in war’s affair,

between those of Troy and the Greeks, oft:

for some days the men of Troy it cost dear,

and often the Greeks found nothing soft

about Troy’s folk. And so Fortune up aloft,

and down beneath, began to wheel them both

after their course, while they were still wrath.

 

21.

 

But how this town came to destruction

it falls not within my purpose to tell:

for it would be here a long digression

from my matter, and delay you too long as well.

But the Trojan exploits as they fell

out, in Homer, Dares, or Dictys, might

whosoever read them, as they write.

 

                               22.

 

But though the Greeks them of Troy shut in,

and besieged their city all about,

they would not leave off their old religion,

so as to honour their gods, being truly devout:

but foremost in honour, without doubt,

they had a relic, called the Palladion,

that they trusted beyond all other ones.

 

23.

 

And so it befell, when there came the time

of April when the meadow was spread

with new green (of lusty Ver the prime)

and sweet smelling flowers, white and red,

in sundry ways worshipped (as I have read)

the folk of Troy, in their observance old,

and used Palladion’s feast to hold.

 

24.

 

And to the temple, with best garments on,

many went in a crowd to the rite,

to hear the service for Palladion:

And in particular many a lusty knight,

many a lady fresh, and maiden bright,

full well arrayed, the highest and the least,

yea, both for the season and the feast.

 

25.

 

Among these other folk was Cressida

in widow’s habit black: but nonetheless,

just as our first letter is now an ‘A’,

in beauty first, so stood she matchless.

Her good looks gladdened all the press.

Never was seen a thing praised so far,

nor, under black cloud, so bright a star,

 

26.

 

as Cressid was, as folk said, everyone,

that beheld her in her black dress:

and yet she stood humbly and still alone,

behind other folk, in little space or less,

and near the door, ever in shame’s distress,

simple in clothing, with an air of cheer,

with a confident look and manner.

 

27.

 

This Troilus, used, as he was, to guide

his young knights, led them up and down,

through that large temple, on every side,

beholding all the ladies of the town,

now here, now there, for he owned

no task that might rob him of his rest,

but began to say whom he liked least or best.

 

28.

 

And in his walk he soon began to watch

if knight or squire of his company

began to sigh or let his eyes catch

on any woman that he could see.

He would smile and hold it as a folly,

and say to him: ‘God knows, she sleeps softly,

free of love for you, while you turn endlessly.

 

29.

 

I have heard tell, by God, of your way of living,

you lovers, and your mad observance,

and such labour as folk have in the winning

of love: and in the keeping, what grievance:

and when your prey is lost, woe and penance.

O very foolish, weak and blind you be:

there is not one who warned by another can be.’

 

30.

 

And with that word he began to wrinkle his brow,

as if to say: ‘Lo, is this not wisely spoken?’

At which the god of Love showed anger’s token,

ready with spite, set on revenge, all woken.

He showed at once his bow had not been broken:

for suddenly he hit him, through and through:

who can pluck as proud a peacock as him too.

 

31.

 

O blind world! O blind intention!

How often all the effect falls contraire

of arrogance and foul presumption:

for caught are the proud, and the debonair.

This Troilus has climbed up the stair,

and little knows he must again descend.

But, every day, things that fools trust in end:

 

32.

 

as proud Bayard begins to shy and skip

from the right course ( perked up by his corn),

till he receives a lash from the long whip:

then he thinks ‘Though I prance before,

all others, first in the traces, fat and newly-shorn,

yet I am but a horse, and a horse’s law

I must endure, and with my fellows draw.’

 

33.

 

So fared it with this fierce and proud knight

though he a worthy king’s son were,

and thought nothing had ever had such might

against his will, so as his heart to stir,

yet with a look his heart had taken fire,

that he, but now, who was most in pride above,

suddenly was most subject unto love.

 

34.

 

Thereby take example of this man,

you wise, proud and worthy folks all,

to scorn Love, which so soon can

the freedom of your hearts take in thrall

For ever it was, and ever it shall befall,

that Love is he that all things may bind,

for no man may undo the law of kind.

 

35.

 

That this be true is proven, and true yet:

for this I mind you know, all or some.

Men do not think folk can have greater wit

than they whom Love has most overcome,

and strongest folk are with it stunned,

the worthiest and greatest of degree:

this was and is, and still men shall it see.

 

36.

 

And truly it is fitting it be so,

for the very wisest have with it been pleased:

for they that have been foremost in woe

with love have been comforted most, and eased.

And often it has the cruel heart appeased,

and worthy folk made worthier of name,

and causes most to dread vice and shame.

 

37.

 

Now since it may not be well withstood,

and is a thing so virtuous, of its kind,

do not refuse to be bound by Love,

since as he pleases he may you bind.

The branch is best that can bend and be entwined,

than that that breaks: and so with you I plead

to follow him that so well can you lead.

 

38.

 

But to go on telling, in more detail,

of this king’s son of whom I told,

and let other things be collateral:

of him I mean my tale to unfold,

both of his joy and of his cares cold:

and all his work as touching on this matter,

since I began it I’ll thereto refer.

 

39.

 

Within the temple he went him forth, toying,

this Troilus, with everyone about,

on this lady and now on that looking,

whether she were of the town or without:

and it fell by chance that through a crowd

his eye pierced, and so deep it strayed

that on Cressid it smote, and there it stayed.

 

40.

 

And suddenly he found himself marvelling,

and began to look more closely with careful eye.

‘O mercy, God’: thought he, ‘where were you living,

that are so fair and goodly to describe?’

Therewith his heart began to spread and rise,

and he soft sighed, lest him men might hear,

and caught again at his first look of cheer.

 

41.

 

She was not among the least for stature,

but all her limbs so well answering

to womanhood, that no creature

was ever less mannish in seeming:

and the pure air of her being

showed well that men in her might guess

honour, estate, and womanly nobleness.

 

42.

 

To Troilus, right wondrously, all in all,

her being begins to please, her looks appear

somewhat disdainful, for she lets fall

her glance a little aside in such manner,

as if to say: ‘What may I not stand here?’

And after that her face fills with light,

that he never thought to see so good a sight.

 

43.

 

And from her look, in him there grew the quick

of such great desire and such affection,

that in his heart’s bottom began to stick

of her his fixed and deep impression:

And though before he had gazed up and down,

he was glad now his horns in to shrink:

he hardly knew how to look or wink.

 

44.

 

Lo, he that declared himself so cunning,

and scorned those that love’s pains drive,

was full unaware that Love had his dwelling

within the subtle streams of her eyes,

that suddenly he thought he felt dying

straight, with her look, the spirit in his heart.

Blessed be Love, that can folk so convert!

 

45.

 

She, this one in black, pleasing to Troilus,

above all things he stood to behold:

of neither his desire, nor why he stood thus,

did he show a sign, or by a word told,

bur from afar, the same aspect to hold,

on other things his look he sometimes cast

and again on her, while ceremonies last.

 

46.

 

And after this, not completely bested,

out of the temple all easily he went,

repenting him that he had ever jested

at Love’s folk, lest, fully, the descent

of scorn fell on himself: but what it meant,

lest it were known on every side,

his woe he began to dissimulate and hide.

 

47.

 

When he was from the temple so departed

he straight away to his palace turns,

right with her look pierced through, and through-darted,

feigning that all in joy he sojourns:

and all his looks and speech hide his concerns,

and also, from Love’s servants all the while,

to mask himself, at them he began to smile.

 

48.

 

And said: ‘Lord! You all live in such delight,

you lovers: for the most cunning of you, in it,

that serves most attentively and serves aright

has harm from it as often as he has profit:

you are repaid again, yea, and God knows it!

Not well for well, but scorn for good service:

in faith, your order is ruled in good wise!

 

49.

 

In unsure outcome lie all your attentions,

except in some small points where you strive,

and nothing asks for such devotions

as your faith does, and that know all alive.

But that is not the worst, as I hope to thrive:

but if I told you the worst point I believe,

though I spoke truth, you would at me grieve.

 

50.

 

But take this: what you lovers often eschew,

or else do with good intention,

often your lady will it misconstrue

and call it harm, in her opinion:

And yet if she for other reason

be angered, she will soon complain to you,

Lord! Well is him that might be of your crew.’

 

51.

 

But for all this, when he could he chose his time

to hold his peace, no other point being gained.

For love began his feathers so to lime,

that scarcely to his own folk he feigned

that other busy needs him detained.

For woe was him: he knew not what to do,

but told his folk, wherever they wished, to go.

 

52.

 

And when he was in his chamber alone,

down upon the bed’s foot he took his seat,

and first he began to sigh, and often groan,

and thought on her like this so without cease,

so that as he sat awake his spirit dreamed

that he saw her in the temple, and the same

true manner of her look, and began again.

 

53.

 

So he began to make a mirror of his mind,

in which he saw all wholly her figure:

and so that he could well in his heart find

that it was to him a right true venture

to love such a one, and, dutiful what’s more

in serving her, he might still win her grace,

or else hold one of her servants’ place.

 

54.

 

Imagining that labour nor pain

might ever for so good a one be lost

as she, nor himself, for his desire, be shamed,

if all were known, but valued and borne

above all lovers more so than before:

so he argued in his beginning,

all unaware of his woe coming.

 

55.

 

So he purposed love’s craft to pursue,

and thought that he would work most secretly,

first to hide his desire, closely mewed,

from every person born, and completely,

unless he might gain anything thereby:

remembering that love too widely blown

yields bitter fruit, though sweet seed be sown.

 

56.

 

And over all of this yet more he thought

what to speak of, and what to hold in,

and what might urge her to love he sought,

and with a song at once to begin,

and began aloud, himself out of sorrow to win.

For, with good hope, he gave his full assent

to loving Cressid, and nothing to repent.

 

57.

 

And of his song not only the sense,

as my author wrote, named Lollius,

but plainly, save our tongue’s difference,

I dare say truly all that Troilus

said in his song, lo! every word thus

as I shall say it: and who might wish can hear,

lo! in the next verse he can find it here.

 

                               58.

 

‘If no love is, O God, what feel I so?

And if love is, what thing and which is he?

If love be good, from whence comes my woe?

If it be evil, a wonder, thinketh me,

when every torment and adversity

that comes of it seems savoury I think,

for I ever thirst the more the more I drink.

 

59.

 

And if for my own pleasure I burn,

whence comes my wailing and complaint?

If harm delights me, why complain then?

I know not why, unwearied, I still faint.

O living death, O sweet harm strangely meant,

how, in me, are you there in such quantity,

unless I consent that so it be?

 

60.

 

And if I so consent, I wrongfully

complain, indeed: buffeted to and fro,

all rudderless within a boat am I

amid the sea, between winds two

that against each other always blow.

Alas! What is this wondrous malady?

Through heat of cold, through cold of heat I die.’

 

61.

 

And to the god of Love thus said he

with piteous voice: ‘O lord, now yours is

my spirit, which ought yours to be.

I thank you, lord, that have brought me to this:

but whether goddess or woman, she is

I know not, that you cause me to serve,

but as her man I will ever live and love.

 

62.

 

You stand in her eyes so mightily,

as in a place worthy of your line,

and so, lord, if my service or I

may please you, so be to me benign:

For my royal estate I here resign

into her hand, and full of humble cheer

become her man, as to my lady dear.

 

63.

 

In him, never deigning to spare blood royal,

the fire of love, saved from which God me bless,

spared him not in any degree, for all

his virtue and his excellent prowess:

but held him as his slave in low distress

and burned him so, in various ways, anew,

that sixty times a day he lost his hue.

 

64.

 

So much, day by day, his own thought,

for lust of her, began to quicken and increase,

that every other charge he set at nought:

Therefore often, his hot fire to cease,

to see her goodly looks he began to press:

for to be eased thereby he truly yearned,

and ever the nearer he was, the more he burned.

 

65.

 

For ever the nearer the fire, the hotter it is:

this, I think, know all this company.

But were he far or near, I dare say this,

by night or day, for wisdom or folly,

his heart, that is his breast’s eye,

was ever on her, that fairer was when seen

than ever Helen was, or Polyxene.

 

66.

 

Ever of the day there passed not an hour

but that to himself a thousand times he said:

‘Good goodly one, whom I serve for and labour

as best I can, now, would to God, Cressid,

you might take pity on me before I am dead.

My dear heart, alas! my health, my beauty,

my life is lost lest you take pity on me.’

 

67.

 

All other fears were from him fled,

both of the siege and his own salvation,

in him desire no other offspring bred

but arguments to this conclusion,

that she on him would have compassion,

and he to be her man while he might endure:

lo! such his life, and from his death the cure.

 

68.

 

The sharp fatal showers, that their arms proved,

which Hector and his other brethren showed

were not to make him even once moved:

and yet was he, wherever men walked or rode,

one of the best, and longest time abode,

where peril was, and ever took such trouble

in arms, that to think of it was a marvel.

 

69.

 

But no hatred of the Greeks he had,

nor any rescue of the town,